


The Dreamer's Change of Heart

by dairygrill



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22308025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairygrill/pseuds/dairygrill
Summary: Erin Quinn was a dreamer. Not in the softened sense of the word. She didn’t float around with a pastel gradient following her footfall, the words “one day, I’m gonna make it out of here” permanently printed on her lips. No.Instead, she had this sort of romanticised idea of herself as the protagonist, not just of her own life, but of the little, bottled-up worlds of everyone she saw. But this vision was starting to dissipate before her eyes. She couldn’t be the protagonist, not like this. She searched the library in her head, ransacked it looking for a sign that, just sometimes, the girl ended up not with the ruggedly handsome boy, but with the girl who she’d placed more trust in than anyone.
Relationships: Clare Devlin/Erin Quinn
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

1

Erin Quinn was a dreamer. Not in the softened sense of the word. She didn’t float around with a pastel gradient following her footfall, the words “one day, I’m gonna make it out of here” permanently printed on her lips.

No.

Instead, she had this sort of romanticised idea of herself as the protagonist, not just of her own life, but of the little, bottled-up worlds of everyone she saw. She would get halfway home from school, then sprint the rest of the way in fear that she might drop some of the words she’d strung delicately together in her head.  
So when it came to David Donnelly, she knew it was only a matter of time. The hero always got their man. Always got their happy ending.

“Are you gonna talk to him?”  
Erin’s thought bubble was burst by the voice of Clare Devlin. Clare was Erin’s best friend, not just in name but in a strong, internalised way. They ran through one another’s bloodstreams, bound together and Erin knew that she probably couldn’t get away from Clare, even if - and sometimes when - she wanted to.  
“Of course I am, Clare.”

“Well, why aren’t you then?” Erin rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s called playing it cool. If I’m super clingy, I’ll just push him away,” she caught sight of Clare’s bouncing leg, “Besides, we can’t all be a walking, talking bag of nerves.”  
Clare huffed, scrunching her face up. “I can’t help it Erin. It’s the music,” she made a vague gesture to the party around them, “It puts me on edge.”  
Erin was going to point out that everything put Clare on edge, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Clare would only strop, and then she might actually have no choice but to go and help Orla with the chocolate fountain, or else speak to David.

Which she _was_ going to do, by the way.

She just had to build up her nerve a little first, was all.  
“Where are the others?”  
Clare shrugged, but within seconds Erin’s question was answered by the sight of Michelle and James walking through the door. Michelle strutted over, and James smiled as he caught Erin’s eye in such a soft manner that she almost forgot that he was both English and probably gay.  
“Aright?” Michelle asked no one in particular, “Who fancies a wee drink?”  
Erin looked over at David and then back to Michelle. “I do.”

And that’s how Erin ended up drinking a weird concoction of cider and vodka, rank and burning. She told herself she wouldn’t usually do this, and that she just needed some liquid courage.  
Song after song passed, and Erin felt the world around her grow fuzzy. People shuffled around them, but whether on the dance floor or sat in the corner, the group remained united. Orla reemerged with handfuls of wham bars, and packets of dip dap exploding from her pockets. An hour had passed before Michelle lost her patience.  
“ _Come on,_ Erin,” she sighed, “We’re here so you can get with David, not sit there staring into space. Just go over there, will you?”  
“Aye. Fine,” Erin protested, “I will. I’ll do that.”

Then without consciously acknowledging it, she had stood up and walked over to where David was drinking a beer in the corner. It wasn’t until she was on her feet that she realised how drunk she was, but she decided to focus on the problem at hand.

“David!”  
He looked up, seemingly stunned. “Oh, Erin. Hi.”  
“What’re you doing?”  
David blinked, confused, then gestured to his turntables. “I’m the DJ.”

Right. Of course. Erin laughed lightly, internally chastising herself for drinking so much.  
“What about you?” David asked, “Who are you here with?”  
While speaking, he glanced over Erin’s shoulder and caught sight of Orla, waving at him with a handful of lollipops. Erin followed his eye line and glared at Orla, jerking her head in a motion that shooed her cousin away.  
“Do you wanna maybe grab a wee drink?” David asked, gesturing toward the kitchen, “I left some beers in the fridge.”  
Erin knew she should say no, that she’d already had far too much, but instead she nodded and followed him into the kitchen, waving at Michelle over her shoulder.  
She caught sight of Clare, slice of pizza in hand. Her face was scrunched up with something that resembled sadness, and it sent a jolt of pain to Erin’s stomach, but within seconds David had grabbed her hand and she forgot all about her best friend.

“So, David,” Erin started, unsure of where she was going, “Are you… seeing anyone?”

“Ach, no. Just me at the minute,” he shrugged, “Not that I wouldn’t… I’d love… you know.”  
Erin nodded, “I do indeed.”

David grabbed two bottles, and used the countertop as a bottle-opener, handing one to Erin.  
“Slainte.”  
“Slainte.”

 _Go Your Own Way_ by Fleetwood Mac started to play in the other room, and David smiled in such a way that Erin felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.  
“I love this one,” he explained.  
“Aye, it’s so class.”

David placed his bottle down on the countertop, and Erin followed his lead, her heart starting to thump. She laughed as he started to dance, mouthing along to the song, and strumming an air guitar. He took her hands, and twirled her around. When the chorus of the song hit, he belted along to it, and with a jolt of her heart, Erin realised he had a really good voice.  
Before she'd even noticed it was happening, their faces were inches apart.

“Erin,” he breathed, and then he was kissing her.

The music in the background went blurry, as if it was being played underwater, and Erin placed one hand on David’s bicep.  
 _Was this actually happening?_  
His fingers tangled through her hair, and drifted carelessly down to the small of her back, sending shivers across her body.

“Oh. S-sorry.”

The atmosphere was shattered and Erin turned around, glancing at the door. Clare was stood there, looking mortified.

“I-I’m sorry, I was just — I’ll leave.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Clare didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was that she would rather be anywhere than at this party, and so her feet dragged her on autopilot out of the door and down the road.  
She found herself sat on a bench a few blocks away, a sting of tears hanging in her eyes, her face stony and cold.

She thought back to last week. Sitting on Erin’s bathroom tiles, painting each others’ nails. There was a moment, looking into her best friend’s blue-green eyes when she’d thought—  
Amidst the laughter and chatter, the girls had stilled, as if the air had solidified in the room around them. Just sitting, and staring at one another. Clare’s hair had been in a high ponytail, but she’d left two strands free at the front framing her face. She remembered the chills when Erin had reached out and let the hair tangle through her fingers.

“Clare?”  
Clare looked up. Orla was stood in front of her, a lollipop hanging from her curls and a concerned little frown on her face.  
“I followed you. I thought you might want this,” she held out a wham bar, and Clare smiled through a wave of tears, patting the space on the bench next to her.  
Orla sat down, and wrapped her arms around Clare’s torso, her chin resting on her shoulder.  
“I like people to hug me when I’m sad,” she explained.  
Clare let out a watery chuckle.  
“I also like to tell people why,” Orla continued, “Why are you sad, Clare?”  
And so Clare explained; how, of late, she’d felt this weird connection with Erin, like a string tied between their ribs, and how Erin pulling away was putting too much strain on this string. She described what she’d seen in the kitchen at the party, and how she’d wanted to boke right there and then. When she’d finished, Orla patted her head affectionately.  
“You’re better than David Donnelly.”  
“D'you think?”  
Orla nodded vigorously. “Much prettier. And you’re a lesbian. That’s pretty class.”

Clare chuckled and squeezed Orla’s hand.  
“Thank you, Orla,” she smiled, “You’re a really good friend.”  
“Yup.”

***

“What was that?” David asked, staring at the now empty doorway.  
“That? That was just Clare.”

“No, I know, she just…” he paused, letting the phrasing come to him, “It was like, she was… sad. Really, really sad.”

“No she’s just,” Erin considered it, “She’s just Clare. She’s always… highly strung.”  
David shook his head.  
“No,” he said, “No, it’s more than that, definitely. If she was a boy, I’d think—”  
“Think what?”

“Well, that she fancied you.”  
Erin choked on her shock. Clare didn’t fancy her. She couldn’t. As much as Erin might—

No.

“Clare doesn’t fancy me! She’s—”  
“A girl.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not really why.”  
David laughed. “I mean it is,” he paused, “Unless she’s a dyke or something.”  
Erin’s heart stopped for a second.

“What?”

David squinted in confusion.  
“Well, I just mean, Clare’s not… Clare’s normal.”  
Erin shook her head. “No, Clare’s fucking mental. But I don’t see how that’s related. I don’t see what her sexuality has anything—”  
“Are you saying it wouldn’t bother you?” David demanded, “If she was a dyke, like,”

If the fire in her veins had won, Erin would have slapped him. Instead, she took a deep, shaking breath in, and backed towards the door, shaking her head.  
“You’re… you’re a dick.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“You heard me. You’re a dick. Clare’s… Well Clare is worth a hundred of you.”

The blood thundered through Erin’s ears. She finally understood the phrase ‘seeing red’, as she stormed out of the door of the party, _Linger_ by The Cranberries floating through the air.  
Tears were streaking her cheeks, burning with anger. How dare he? How—  
She sat down on the steps, and pulled her diary out of her bag. This wasn’t how the story was meant to go. The princess got their prince. The romantic leads always ended up together. Always got their happily ever after. What had gone wrong? She scanned the pages of the book, looking for some sign, something she’d missed. David’s name was over every page, E hearts D scribbled on dog-eared corners and D.D gratified in love hearts. The only name that popped up more often was—

Clare.

Erin’s heart stopped. She shook herself, flicking through pages until she found what she was looking for.

An entry from a few weeks ago, when Clare had stayed the night. It filled three pages front and back, and Erin hadn’t really thought about it until now. But as she read the pages, the feelings all came flooding back.  
She had woken up in the early hours of the morning, to find Clare snuggled into her chest. For some reason, it filled her entire body with warmth, despite the fact that Clare had stolen the duvet. She remembered stroking the hair off of Clare’s pink cheeks, with sleep still prickling her eyes. It had been a subconscious movement, a sort of autopilot. She remembered the way her whole body had smiled, starting with her eyes as she stared down at her sleeping best friend. She remembered a sensation that was almost like love spreading through her stomach, almost unbearably wonderful, pulling Clare as close to her chest as possible.  
Perhaps she was imagining it. Perhaps it was some reckless addition to the memory constructed through hindsight, but Erin suddenly got the overwhelming feeling that, just for a second, she had yearned to kiss Clare.

She slammed her diary shut and started unseeingly at the cover. What did this mean? Surely she didn’t - she couldn’t fancy Clare. It didn’t make sense. She loved David. She was going to end up with David.  
The assured vision of the world Erin thought she knew so well shattered around her. All those stories she’d read. The poems, the songs - lies.  
Erin was a dreamer, and the romanticised vision she had of herself as the protagonist was starting to dissipate before her eyes. She couldn’t be the protagonist, not like this. She searched the library in her head, ransacked it looking for a sign that just sometimes the girl ended up not with the ruggedly handsome boy, but with the girl who she’d placed more trust in than anyone. That, every once in a while, the bold, creative outgoing young girl abandoned the boy she had been chasing to hold the hand of her best friend.  
But there was nothing. The boy got the girl, or vice versa, and suddenly, Erin wasn’t a dreamer. Suddenly, Erin was no one at all.


	3. Chapter 3

3

“Erin, will you get that?”

Erin groaned, and pulled the duvet up over her face. A few days had passed and she had barely left her bed. Her eyes were rimmed with red and the whites of them had gone pink and fuzzy.

“Erin!”

She rolled out of bed, and drifted downstairs like a ghost. She opened the front door, just as Michelle was about to knock again.

Michelle blinked as she struggled to take in her friend’s disheveled appearance.  
“We need to talk.”

***

Erin had rolled back up in bed, as Michelle perched awkwardly at the end of it, looking at her.

“Are you gonna talk about it?”  
Erin shrugged.  
“Come on, Erin. I-” she chewed her lip, thinking, “I’ve never seen you like this.”  
A beat.  
“I don’t know what to do.”

Erin spoke at last. “You can’t do anything.”  
“Not if you don’t talk to me.”  
Erin sat up. “I can’t.”  
“Dose,” Michelle sighed, “Of course you can.” She mimed zipping up her lips. “What happens in this room stays in this room.”  
Erin opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shook her head, and her hands, folded in her lap, began to fidget. Michelle shuffled over and sat next to her.  
“Please,” she said, taking Erin’s hand, “I just wanna help. That’s all. If I can’t, I promise I’ll leave you alone.”  
“I had this plan. This, like, idea of how my life was gonna be. And it’s just gone very wrong.” She stopped talking.  
“Go on,” Michelle nudged, “Something happened at the party the other night didn’t it.”

Erin nodded.  
“I got with David.”

“Class! Not as frigid as I thought, eh?” Michelle nudged Erin, but Erin didn’t laugh. “What went wrong? Were you shite?”  
“No!” Erin said, indignantly. “Clare interrupted us by accident.”

“So?”

“Well, Clare ran off and David got really weird about it. He said he would have thought she… she fancied me. And he called her a dyke and stuff and I just got so angry. I left.”  
Michelle squeezed Erin’s hand.  
“Fecking prick. You don’t need him.”

“No, I… There’s more,” Erin took a deep breath in, and then continued. “I stormed off and, like, I dunno. I was confused and angry and I just got to thinking and I realised I…” She trailed off.  
“You what?”  
“That’s just it - I don’t really know.”

Michelle sighed. “Well, then. Tell me what you do know and I’ll see if I can fill in the blanks.”  
There was no reply, so Michelle looked at Erin, and saw tears staining her cheeks.  
“Hey! It’s okay. Whatever it is, we can—”  
“I fancy Clare.”

Michelle frowned. She must have misheard.  
“You what?”  
“I think… well I know… I-I think I know that I… fancy Clare.”

“Clare? As in _Clare_ Clare. _Our_ Clare.”  
Erin wiped her eyes, nodding softly.  
“So, what are you… gay?”  
“No, I,” Erin took a deep, shuddering breath in, “I don’t know.”  
“Right, okay, calm down. Don’t, like, panic, or whatever.”  
“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”  
“Many, many things,” Michelle joked, but then catching sight of Erin’s face, continued, “But not this. I don’t quite know what it means but I’m sure you’re not the only one. I mean, if it’s okay to like girls or boys then it must be okay to like both, right?”  
Erin buried her face in Michelle’s chest, and Michelle put her arms around her.

“So,” she said, when Erin seemed to be calming down, “Clare, eh?” She winked.  
“I know, I have no chance.”

Michelle frowned.  
“Look, Erin. I don’t wanna give you false hope or anything because, honestly, I don’t know, but it’s definitely not impossible that she feels the same way.”

“What do I do?”  
Michelle shrugged. “My best guess,” she said, “would be to talk to her.”


	4. Chapter 4

4

Clare picked up the phone for the third time, and for the third time, she put it back down.  
 _Why can’t I do this? I’ve called her so many times._  
She closed her eyes, her nose scrunched up, and thought for a second. Then, let autopilot take over as she picked up the phone and dialled her best friends number.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hello Mrs Quinn. Is… is Erin there?”

“Aye, hold on a minute, love.”

She heard the muffled shouts of Mary calling Erin downstairs, and starting tapping her foot nervously. Then, someone took the phone the other end.

“Clare?”

“Erin, hi. Look, I—”

“Clare, we need to talk,” there was a pause, as Clare devised a mental list of everything this could be about. “Meet me at the park?”

“I… yeah. When?”

“Ten minutes?”

***

Clare was sat on the park bench, her leg shuffling up and down, when Erin emerged through the gate. She caught her eye, and Clare found herself able to breathe again.

“What’s going on, Erin?” She asked as Erin sat down, staring at her feet. “Where have you been?”  
Erin chewed her lip before answering. “Just thinking.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay,” Erin sighed. “But I do need to talk to you.”

Clare smiled. “I’m all ears.”

“Firstly, I wanna apologise for how I reacted when you came out—”

“That was ages ago."

“Let me finish, please. It was wrong, and I hate to think about how much it must’ve hurt.”

“Apology accepted.”

Erin itched her nose absently, as she tried to work out what to say next. Before she could, Clare asked her a question.

“Are you dating David? I don’t mind if you are, obviously, I’m happy for you, I—”

“No.”  
Clare raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“And I’m not going to either.”

“But I don’t understand. I saw…”

“I know. But, as it transpires, he’s a massive dickhead. And homophobic.”She took a breath, preparing herself for what she was about to say. “Which would have been a problem anyway, because if someone’s against you then they’re against me too. You’re… well, you’re the most important person in my life.”

“Erin…”

“Wait,” now she’d starting talking, she had to finish. “It’s also a problem because as it turns out… I’m a bit gay.”

It went silent. For a moment, the two girls just stared at each other.  
And then, Clare beamed, and threw her arms around Erin.  
“I’m so, so proud of you.”

Erin felt herself starting to cry.  
“That’s what I should’ve said.”  
Clare took Erin’s hands in her own, ignoring the fluttering it caused in the pit of her stomach.  
“It’s done now, Erin. Forget about it. I’m fine. Actually, I’m better. I’m happy.”  
But Erin didn’t smile. Instead, she cried more.  
“Is there something else?” Clare asked, and Erin nodded.  
“You see, the thing is, I think maybe the reason I reacted so badly when you came out was because, actually, I like you.”  
Clare’s heart just about stopped. She’d misunderstood, she must have.  
“What do you mean?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I know I’m a mess and selfish and- and,” Erin sniffed wiped her eyes, “But, I like you Clare. In the sort of lesbian sense.”

Clare dropped Erin’s hand.  
“You… But I…”  
Erin’s heart was full of lead.  
“Just forget it. Forget I said anything.”  
She got up to leave, but Clare grabbed her hand and pulled her back round.  
“No,” Clare said, “You don’t understand. I like you too.”

“You… you do?”  
Clare nodded, her face glowing with a smile.  
“Of course. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but it’s like there’s this string connecting us.”

Erin gasped. “Can I use that for a poem?”

Clare smiled. “On one condition. Will you go out with me?”  
Erin didn’t answer. Instead, she tucked Clare’s hair behind her ear, and brought her lips down to Clare’s.

It wasn’t like kissing David. That had been exciting and bubbly, but this was soft, and just felt so right. It was like in all the stories, where they realised that this was the only person they were ever meant to kiss. Leaving one hand tangled in Clare’s hair, she placed the other one on the small of her back, and pulled her in closer. Her whole body felt like it was melting and burning all at once. It was quite possible that Clare’s arms, which roamed her back, were the only things holding Erin upright.  
She realised just how wonderful Clare smelt - it was like an overpowering scent that Erin couldn’t describe as anything other than unbelievably Clare-like, but it wrapped her up until she felt like she was floating.  
When they pulled apart, she saw a deep flush had risen in Clare’s cheeks.  
“Can I come back to yours?”


	5. Chapter 5

“Mammy? Can Clare stay over tonight?”

“O’ course, love,” Ma Mary looked up, briefly, from her pile of ironing, “You’ve been seeing an awful lot of Clare recently.”

Erin felt a jolt of panic to her stomach.

“I just—”

“I remember I’d gone through about fifty best friends by your age, Erin. It’s lovely that you’re still so close.”

“Aye, mammy.”

“Considerin’ that she’s gonna be round later,” Sarah said, flapping about her newly-painted nails, “can you ask her who she gets to colour her hair? I was thinking of going blonde, and her shade is—”

“Clare doesn’t dye her hair, Sarah. Not allowed.”

Aunt Sarah appeared momentarily crestfallen, but then perked back up, saying “Clare probably wouldn’t mind if I took a wee snipping of her hair though, just to show the colourists.”  
“I doubt that,” Erin breathed, picking up her school bag, “Where’s Orla? ORLA!”

“Alright, alright. No need to shout,” Orla sighed, crawling out from under the table, a torch in one hand.

“How long have you… Never mind. Let’s shift it.”

Clare was waiting, as usual, at the end of the road. But things weren’t the same as usual. They hadn’t been since that day in the park.

Erin chewed her bottom lip as she watched Clare from a distance. Constantly fidgeting, her arms swung at her side, and she had her hair twisted back in a style Erin loved her.

“Um, Orla? Isn’t that a snail?”

“What, where?”  
“Over there,” Erin gestured, “In that bush.”  
Orla stop in her tracks, whipping her torch out, and diverting her attention to the new objective of ‘snail hunt’.

Erin walked ahead.

“Hi, Clare.”  
Clare turned, and a beam spread across her face, brightening the blush on her cheeks. She bit her lip, and Erin had to remind herself that they were in a public place and that she was nowhere near ready to be out to anyone other than Clare and Michelle, let alone the whole of Derry.

She did, however, let Clare take her hand. The way their fingers intertwined was so comfortable, so perfect, so right that she hated herself for never thinking to hold Clare’s hand until recently. She thought, with regret, of the sixteen or so years of Clare-based hand-holding she’d missed.

“Does she still believe there’s a ladybird in the bushes?” Clare nodded her head back in Orla’s direction, who now had her ear pressed to the pavement as she searched the mud.

“Na. I told her it was a snail today,” Clare laughed, and Erin’s heart smiled, “Mammy says you’re good to stay over tonight, by the way.”

“Great,” Clare squeezed Erin’s hand.

“Guys, wait up!”  
“Any luck with the snail, Orla?” Erin asked.  
“Nope. I did find this, though,” She held up a lollipop, coated with dirt.

“Orla, that’s disgusting! Throw it away, now.”  
Dejectedly, Orla tossed it into the road.

“Now I’ll have to buy one,” she muttered to herself.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Erin found herself struggling to focus on Michelle’s long monologue about the fella she met in Dennis’ Wee Shop. She could feel the heat of Clare’s body beside her, and there was a deep, buzzing hum in her stomach like a magnetic pull. She bit her lip, but her bouncing leg wouldn’t dissolve the feeling.

“So, he’s an absolute ride, but he dresses like an English politician, and I just don’t know if I can—”

“I need to piss,” Erin half-shouted. Everyone turned to look at her, except for Orla who was braiding three strawberry laces together.

“Do… do you need to piss, Clare?” Erin stammered.

Clare squinted, suspiciously. “I… what?”

“Right, come on then. Let’s go piss,” Erin grabbed Clare’s hand and dragged her out of the room, leaving Michelle and James entirely dumfounded.

“What the fuck was that about?” Michelle asked no one in particular.

“They needed to piss, obviously,” Orla explained.

James frowned, “I think that might have been rhetorical, Orla.”

“I think you might be rhetorical, James,” Michelle laughed to herself, “No, but seriously, what’s up with those two at the moment?”

James shrugged. He too had noticed a slight change in his friends’ behaviour, but until that moment, it had been a rather subconscious revelation. Now, it niggled at his mind.

“They were weird in English the other day too,” he pointed out, “When Miss asked Erin to read out her poem, I thought Clare was about to slap her.”  
“Yeah,” Michelle nodded, “I hate to agree with you James, but it’s very out of character for Erin to refuse to read out her poems. She usually doesn’t have to be asked, so…”

And then the penny dropped.

“Actually,” Michelle blurted, “It’s probably nothing. We’re just… imagining it. It’s not… they’re not… Nothing’s happening.”

Orla smiled. “Exactly. And I definitely don’t know anything.”

“Nope,” Michelle nodded, “And I don’t know anything either. That’s right, Orla.”

James opened his mouth to speak, realised he didn’t know what to say and closed it again. This definitely wasn’t the first time the girl’s had left him out of the loop - he remembered the Secret Santa incident all too well - but it wasn’t usually this explicit. He scratched his nose in thought, and resolved on asking Erin about it. She, after all, was the most likely to give him straight answer. 

***

Erin dragged Clare into the end cubicle and locked the door behind them.

“Erin? What’s—”

Clare had only just started her question when Erin shoved her against the wall. It hurt quite a bit more than it seemed to in movies and she winced slightly, but immediately caught on to what was happening. She felt herself choke on her own breath as Erin’s hand found itself on Clare’s waist, and when Erin started to kiss her, she just about shutdown entirely for a moment.

And then Erin pulled away.

“Sorry, about this. I just—”

“Shut up,” and with that, Clare pulled her back in, and suddenly everything was about Erin, and Clare got a vague idea of what it must be like to live in Erin’s head.

Erin felt Clare’s arms wrap around her neck and hoped the heavy thump of her pulse couldn’t be felt through Clare’s blazer. It was, rather exquisitely, like they were together, burning, at the eye of a hurricane, the centre of an explosion. The world around them melted away like afternoon frost and the liquid honey of reality submerged them both. It was a divine, out-of-body experience. Erin felt, but didn’t quite hear, a soft moan escape her lips. She was grabbing, grasping, trying desperately to hold onto every part of Clare that she could manage, to breathe in the vanilla fog that surrounded her. They were impossibly close, and yet Erin wanted nothing more than to be closer still.

If time was passing, they didn’t know it. Erin dragged her fingers lower, trailing them over the bare skin of Clare’s thigh, just under the hem of her skirt, and Clare’s fingers tugged, in shock, at Erin’s hair.

“Holy fuck, you two know how to make noise!”  
The pair jumped apart at the sound of Michelle’s voice, and Clare glanced up to see her peering over from the next stall along.

“Michelle, what the fuck! Get down!” Erin spluttered, blood rushing to her cheeks, “What if it wasn’t us? You are such a pervert!”

Michelle shrugged, and then there was a thump as she jumped down from off the toilet lid. Clare was frozen in place, so Erin unlocked the door and walked sheepishly out.

“How did you know?” She asked.

“Well you’re not exactly fucking subtle. And before you say anything else, I’m not just here to confirm my suspicions. You’ve been in here fucking ages and I knew Clare would go nuts if you were late to French so…”  
“It's the end of lunch?” Clare appeared from out of the stall.

“Yep,” Michelle nodded then, noticing the look on Clare’s face, “Don’t worry, you wee dyke. Your secret’s safe with me.” She winked.

Erin took Clare’s hand.

“I spoke to Michelle before we… she knew I fancied you. I didn’t know she’d worked this out, though.”

“Don’t worry," Clare shook her head, "I told Orla.”

“Oh,” Michelle said, “That explains how she knew.”  
Erin raised an eyebrow.

“ _Orla,_ managed to work it out too?”

“Like I said, you’re hardly subtle. I think she might’ve worked it out ages ago to be honest.”

Clare frowned, “Poor James.”

Michelle shrugged, “Fuck James,” and then, with a smirk, “You’ve already fucked Erin.”

Erin’s glare could’ve sparked lasers, but it wasn’t even half as poignant as the blush that haunted Clare’s face.

“Shut up, Michelle.”

“Never.”


	6. chapter 6

Erin didn’t think she’d ever been happier than she was in this moment. 

Scratch that.

Erin knew she’d never been happier. 

The sun had set, and they were on Erin’s bed, Clare cuddled into her side. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly parted, but Erin sensed that she was still awake. She stroked her fingers through Clare’s hair, brushing it off her cheeks, and Clare fidgeted beneath her touch, a small smile highlighting her features. Her eyes blinked open and stared into Erin’s. Then, ever so slowly, she shuffled up the bed and brought their faces closer together. Erin placed her hand on Clare’s cheek, and felt the muscles in her jaw shift as she smiled. 

Clare watched Erin’s pupils dilate and felt that delicate fluttering in her chest that she’d become accustomed to. She watched as Erin’s eyes darted between her eyes and lips. And when she couldn’t watch anymore, when simply watching wouldn’t satiate her, she put a hand on Erin’s stomach and kissed her. 

It was soft, and delicate, and feather-light. But, as Erin’s fingers tangled through her hair, Clare felt the pit of her stomach drop and she deepened the kiss. Erin hummed, and Clare could feel her smiling. As she traced her fingers in circles across Erin’s stomach, she felt the kiss become heavier, more desperate. They were breathing each other now, like the atoms they were made of had turned to smoke, and Clare’s mind drifted away as she was smothered by it. Putting her hand on Erin’s face, she shifted her weight so she was straddling Erin, and felt hands trailing their way up and down her back. 

But within a moment, Erin was pushing her away. She shuffled out from under Clare and, rather flustered, Clare let her go. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… sorry,” Clare gasped.  
“I can’t-“ Erin started, “You can’t… you can’t just… I’m not-” She got off the bed and stood in front of the window, shuffling her weight from one foot to another.   
“I am genuinely sorry, Erin,” Clare gushed, “I- I crossed a boundary. I get that. We don’t have to… we don’t have to do anything… Are- are you okay?”  
Clare stopped suddenly, her anxious stomach twisting into dread at the look on Erin’s face. She had gone pale, and was breathing shakily.   
“Erin? Sit down,” Clare got up, unsure of what to do. Her first instinct was to take her hand, but she held back, her certainty on where she stood faltering, “Please. I’m scared you’re gonna faint.”She sat down and Clare took a tentative seat beside her.   
“Erin look at me.”  
Erin turned and her panicked eyes stared desperately into Clare’s.   
“I think you’re having a panic attack. Just breathe. Like this, okay? In - 2 - 3 - 4. Hold - 2 - 3 - 4. Out - 2 - 3 - 4. And again.”They sat like that for a few minutes just breathing, until the colour was back in Erin’s cheeks. 

“Talk to me,” Clare said. 

It wasn’t a question, or a plead. It was an offer. An outstretched hand. Clare had overstepped the mark, and was determined to fix it. 

“I’m just…” Erin began, glancing down at her wringing hands in her lap, “God, you must think I’m so lame.”  
“Sure, don’t be silly,” Clare said, “Erin, look at me. I could never think you’re silly. I overstepped the mark, I should have asked.”“I… I overreacted. Honestly, I don’t mind, Clare. I liked it. It’s just… I’m scared.”Clare thought she might cry.   
“Of what?”  
“Pushing you away.”“Erin…”“What I mean is, I like you Clare. I really like you. In fact I think I might be starting to…” Erin cut herself off, finding her footing wobbly on this new terrain, “But I just… I’m not quite ready to… you know. Go all the way.”  
Erin’s voice faded out, and she started to chew her lip. Clare blinked in a blank sort of way that Erin couldn’t read, so she continued.   
“I- I hope that doesn’t, you know, change anything. I do really like you Clare, and I want to… to have sex with you. One day. I do! But…”  
“Erin,” Clare took her hands and smiled, “Listen to me: we don’t have to do anything unless you’re ready. We can go as slowly or as quickly as you like. Well, as long as I also want to. And I… I also want to,” Clare swallowed, “uh, have sex with you one day. But I’m not ready yet either. And even if I was, and even when I am, I would never force you to do anything. Got it?”  
Erin nodded, a smile spreading across her face.   
“Got it. And, um, I’d quite like to make out with you again now, if that’s alright?”

Clare pushed a strand of hair behind Erin’s ear.   
“So, um, can I - uh - straddle you please?” Clare blushed, and Erin laughed, biting her bottom lip.   
“I’d like that.”


End file.
